Sunday, August 19, 2018

Lincoln hat, gloves may be auctioned

The Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library Foundation, which supports Lincoln’s museum in Springfield, Ill., has found itself $9.7 million in debt on a loan it took out 11 years ago to purchase a collection of rare artifacts. Now, hundreds of Lincoln’s personal possessions, including a beaver-fur stovepipe hat that Lincoln purportedly wore, as well as letters and other artifacts, are at risk of ending up on the auction block. • Article

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

No longer missing in action: Atlanta Cyclorama painting restoration brings back trimmed sky, two vertical sections in battlefield

Decatur Road swath was gone for 97 years (AHC photos)
This is what the result of the lopping looked like at Grant Park

And the section returned this year (AHC)
Over the past year and a half, a team restoring the "Battle of Atlanta" cyclorama painting has worked to make it whole again -- literally.

They have added 7 feet of sky and painted two sections of the circular mural that were removed over the years, for different reasons.

“The main driving force for us in conserving this painting has been to return to it to what the artists originally intended in 1886,” said Gordon L. Jones, senior military historian and curator at the Atlanta History Center, the cyclorama’s new home.

When the attraction opens in February 2019, AHC officials say patrons will see a painting that will transport them back to when it was completed by German, Swiss and other artists in Milwaukee. 

Gone will be a number of clouds painted in over the years to cover water damage and incorrect shades of paint dabbed on the Belgian linen during previous restorations.

Visitors also will see much more sky than when the giant painting was at Grant Park. Before it was put in that building, portions were lopped off during the attraction’s traveling days. 

(Those who saw the painting at Grant Park will remember sitting on a revolving platform. That’s gone. Instead, visitors will stand on a circular stage and turn to take it all in, as the artists intended, Jones said.)

The Atlanta Cyclorama depicts a crucial moment during the July 22, 1864, Battle of Atlanta. Union Maj. Gen. John "Black Jack" Logan is rallying his troops to successfully thwart a Confederate breakthrough at the Troup Hurt House east of downtown.

Trees to the left of the Troup Hurt House have made a return
(Photos courtesy of AHC)
Artists earlier this year painted in a 6-foot wide section showing Decatur Road. That vertical strip had been trimmed so that the painting could squeeze into its Grant Park home in 1921.

The other restored section was near the hip-roofed Troup Hurt House (left). That 54-inch-wide strip was excised between 1892 (when the painting was in a building on Edgewood Avenue) and 1901.

Jones said there were two reported instances of major damage during the time – from a roof collapse during an 1893 snowstorm and a roof collapse, rot and structural failure in 1898, when the mural was in an early building at Grant Park.

“My guess would be that the excision was in 1893, because shortly thereafter they rolled up the painting to move to Grant Park and probably just lopped off the damaged section before they rehung it,” he said. 

Photo placed on viewing platform (Civil War Picket photo)

Photographs (above) taken shortly after the painting was finished have been invaluable to the restoration effort.

Jones told the Picket a few years ago that the history center had 1:10 scale preliminary drawings that were given to the original artists in Milwaukee.

“To reproduce the preliminary drawing, sets of 10 photos were made of the entire length and distributed to the artists working on the painting,” Jones said in 2014. “We now have seven of the 10 – a great aid to restoration – but we do not have the section covering the Decatur Road – only the photo of the finished painting.”

With the added sections, the art work is now 371 feet in circumference and 49 feet high.

1886 artists worked from these sketches (AHC)

I recently took part in a 90-minute, behind-the-scenes tour of the painting restoration and the locomotive Texas, made famous in the 1862 Great Locomotive Chase between Atlanta and Chattanooga, Tenn. It had been three years since I last saw the monumental painting depicting moments of triumph, loss, chaos and resolve on a hot summer day in 1864.

City officials in 2014 announced the painting would be relocated to the history center. In early 2017, the mural was rolled onto two huge scrolls and trucked from Grant Park to the history center.

Coming soon: A deeper look at the painting's restoration and what's planned for exhibits and interpretation.

Monday, August 13, 2018

Hidden tattoos revealed pride, patriotism

Atlas Obscura: “The Civil War helped tattooing begin a transition from the military to wider society, and ushered in the style of classic tattooing unique to America. Tattooing had long been widespread among sailors, but during the war men who would never have considered getting a tattoo before wanted a way to show their allegiance to their cause and to identify themselves in the event of death." • Article

Monday, August 6, 2018

Beauregard statue time capsule opened

History was revealed when a time capsule from beneath the P.G.T. Beauregard pedestal was opened in New Orleans' French Quarter. The box contained newspapers, currency and other items. The time capsule was placed under the monument in 1913. Historians said while there was some water damage to the artifacts, they believe much of the items can be salvaged. The equestrian statue of Beauregard was taken down by a crane more than a year ago after a contentious public battle. •Article

Friday, August 3, 2018

Portion of Confederate defensive trench will be preserved in new Atlanta-area park

A view of the trench looking southwest (Georgia Battlefields Association)

A new park northwest of Atlanta will feature the remnants of a trench briefly occupied by Confederates during the Federal army’s push on Atlanta in summer 1864.

Cobb County commissioners last year purchased 94 acres from the Kemp family – which has been in the area for seven generations – for $6.5 million. An opening date for the park, off Burnt Hickory Road west of Marietta and above Harrison High School, has not been set.

At the time of the purchase, county officials said they were grateful because the Kemp family could have made more money by selling to developers.

Charlie Crawford, head of the Georgia Battlefields Association, said experts indicate the defensive trench was occupied for a few days by Mercer’s Georgia brigade after Confederates withdrew from the New Hope Church line on June 4, 1864.

“Mercer’s brigade and Vaughan’s Tennessee brigade to its right (northeast) were in an advanced position from the Lost Mountain-Brushy Mountain Line and were withdrawn to the main line not long after Federal forces advanced,” the GBA said in a recent newsletter lauding the park acquisition. “The adjacent advanced position on Pine Mountain farther northeast was abandoned after the death of Lt. Gen. Leonidas Polk there on 14 June 1864.”

Tommy Kemp provided a tour of the property (GBA)

Federal and Rebel forces clashed on June 15-16 at Gilgal Church, just east of the park.

Crawford, who attended a recent park preview, said the trench “is easily discernible but not exceptional.” He estimates it to be at least several dozen yards long. It continues north across a road to property still owned by the Kemps. There are still some cows on the land.

“A trail already crosses the trench, and I assume a better trail will be part of the county plan,” he said. An historic map in Baylor University Libraries’ digital collection shows the Kemp farm and mill.

Charlie Monroe, natural resource manager for Cobb County parks, said the master planning process will begin later this year. "Included in that process are public input meetings where residents are encouraged to provide us with feedback on what they want to see in the park," Monroe said. The master plan and design documents will guide decisions on how to interpret the trench, he said.

Monroe said there is no money currently available for development and construction.

County Commissioner Bob Weatherford told the Marietta Daily Journal last fall that the property near Allatoona Creek has two homes, a family cemetery and the Civil War site, which he said will be fenced off and protected. At that time, plans were for the tract to be a passive park, emphasizing the natural habitat.

Sunday, July 29, 2018

The spy and the saboteurs: Men who instigated the 'Great Locomotive Chase' stayed here the night before daring raid

The Andrews room is on the second floor of the former hotel.

It might be a bit of a stretch to liken the Civil War’s Andrews Raid – popularly known as “The Great Locomotive Chase” – to the daring Doolittle Raid in World War II, but perhaps there are a few similarities.

In 1862, Union spy James J. Andrews and a handful of Ohio soldiers struck deep in Southern territory. Their aim was to disrupt Confederate rail service between Atlanta and Chattanooga, Tenn., making the latter vulnerable to capture. The mission failed. Eight men – including Andrews – were hanged as spies, Chattanooga was not attacked in force and the Western & Atlantic Railroad quickly rebounded from a smattering of damage.

The saboteurs, however, became heroes in the North and the very first Medal of Honor went to one, Jacob Parrott. Eventually, 19 of the raiders received the honor (Andrews, a civilian, did not qualify).

The Doolittle Raid also occurred in April, albeit 80 years later. The air raid over Tokyo and other cities on Honshu caused minimal damage, but demonstrated the Japanese mainland was vulnerable to attack and boosted morale in the United States.

Propaganda is a powerful thing, and the Confederacy likewise treated those who ran down the Andrews raiders as heroes.

Models of the General (left) and Texas

The nervous night before raid

On Saturday, I made my way to Marietta, Ga., where Andrews and 19 others boarded the locomotive General to begin their caper. The town, just northwest of Atlanta, is rich in Civil War history: It has a national and Confederate cemetery, a “Gone with the Wind” museum and is near Kennesaw Mountain, scene of a significant battle in June 1864 during Sherman’s Atlanta Campaign.

I walked through the charming downtown square in a city older than Atlanta and Chattanooga. I passed restaurants, boutiques and antique shops on a hot summer day made bearable by a breeze. My destination was the Kennesaw House, one of the oldest buildings in the city, and home to the Marietta Museum of History.

Route of the chase, which ended near Ringgold.

The second-floor of the building features contemporary exhibits and a room that I specifically wanted to see. In April 1862, the former cotton warehouse was known as Fletcher House. The hotel, perched along the railroad tracks, was owned by Dix Fletcher, a Union sympathizer. The swankier Marietta Hotel on the square was operated by Yankee spy Henry G. Cole.

Fletcher House is where most of the raiders spent the night before they boarded the train.

Andrews (who hoped to be paid for his efforts) was familiar with Marietta but it took a lot of moxie for his men, dressed as civilians and posing as Confederate army recruits, to travel south from Shelbyville, Tenn., to Marietta in order to board the locomotive General. They passed Confederates who surely wondered whether they were conscripts avoiding service. Two would-be raiders were stopped in North Georgia and impressed into the Confederate army.

James Andrews
The raiders arrived in the city late on April 11 and all but two crammed into a room or two in the Fletcher House. Two more stayed at the Marietta Hotel, but they overslept and did not take part in the raid.

The building housing the museum has undergone several renovations since the Civil War and the re-created hotel room where Andrews is believed to have stayed is much larger than it was then and includes exhibits on the train chase. There’s a replica of a bed that likely held two or three tired men, furnishings and a mannequin of a determined Andrews looking down at the W&A tracks (the line is now used by CSX).

The raiders didn’t get much sleep on a night filled with anxiety and expectation. According to William Pittenger, one of the soldiers, some participants called for Andrews to call off the operation.

“I will succeed or leave my bones in Dixie,” the spy replied.

Startled conductor springs into action

Early the morning of the 12th, a gray, rainy day, the men bought tickets to different destinations in order to avoid suspicion. They boarded the General and road eight miles north to Big Shanty, now known as Kennesaw.

Andrews mannequin in Marietta
The raiders stayed on the train while others went to the Lacy Hotel to enjoy a quick breakfast. They uncoupled most of the cars and sped off. Their objective was to disrupt the vital rail line that transported Rebel soldiers and supplies from Atlanta to Chattanooga, where they were then sent to other critical locations in the Western Theater. The men intended to destroy track, trestles, bridges and telegraph lines.

Western & Atlantic conductor William A. Fuller was shocked at the sight of his train chugging away. He and a couple others ran after the train, unaware of the subterfuge. 

The conductor ran across a handcar and three trains and 86 miles later he -- along with Confederate horsemen who had been reached by telegraph -- had chased Andrews to a few miles south of Chattanooga, Tenn. Out of fuel and water for the locomotive, Andrews and his party fled, only to be captured.

A lot of things worked against the saboteurs – the wet weather made it tough to set fire to wood and the tenacious Fuller just wouldn’t give up. The dogged pursuit left them little opportunity to cause mayhem. And there was a crucial delay that slowed the General.

The raiders had to wait for almost an hour at Kingston while several southbound freight trains cleared the tracks. Confederates switched to the locomotive Texas in Adairsville and ran it in reverse. 

Board describes the fate of each Union raider

Aware they were being chased, the Yankees cut telegraph lines when they went through Calhoun. In Resaca, they detached a rail car and set it on fire on the rail bridge in hopes of burning it down. The bridge was not burned completely because of a rainstorm.

The gig was up near Ringgold as the General ran out of steam. Eight of the 20 captured raiders were tried as spies and executed in Atlanta. The rest either escaped or were exchanged, according to the New Georgia Encyclopedia.

Hotel largely escaped the flames

That wasn’t the end of the Civil War story for Fletcher House. It and other buildings in Marietta served as hospitals for both Federal and Confederate soldiers. A morgue was upstairs.

Surviving fireplaces
“During the summer of 1864, forces under the command of William Tecumseh Sherman moved in and occupied the town,” the Marietta city website says. “For the next five months, federal troops would pillage by day and ravage by night. In November 1864, men under the command of Union General Hugh Kilpatrick, Sherman's ‘merchant of terror,’ set the town on fire. ‘Uncle Billy's’ boys were leaving for the heart of Georgia on ‘The March to the Sea.”

The story goes that Fletcher House was spared because Fletcher, like Sherman, was a Mason, and Cole, his son-in-law, was a Yankee spy. Ashes from the fire did destroy the building’s fourth floor.

The hotel after the war was renamed Kennesaw House and stayed in operations for several more decades, giving way to retail space on the first floor. The building was gutted in 1979, and the remodeled space hosted restaurants, offices and retail. It’s been home to the Marietta Museum of History since 1996.

Next door is the town’s welcome center, housed in a depot (1898) built on the site of the original station.

And what became of the General and Texas, the locomotives made famous by the seven-hour chase?

The General is on display at the Southern Museum of Civil War and Locomotive History in Kennesaw. The Texas was recently restored and will be a highlight of the Atlanta Cyclorama when it reopens later this year at the Atlanta History Center.

Thursday, July 26, 2018

He never received a medal. Until now.

A New York family has received a Civil War medal for their ancestor who died before the military decoration was created. State Sen. David Carlucci presented Viola Silverman with a replica of the Civil War Campaign Medal. John Ferguson Pratt served in the New York Volunteer 39th Infantry Regiment and was wounded in Virginia. • Article

Friday, July 13, 2018

The USS Monitor overcame doubters. Its crew trusted the ironclad, even during the terrible storm that sank the famous ironclad.

Monitor crew in July 1862 on James River in Va.  (Library of Congress)

Robert Williams (right)
On a summer day in 1862, a contingent of the USS Monitor’s crew gathered in front of its battle-scarred turret. A few sailors played checkers while others gazed toward a camera.

None of them looked more intensely at the photographer than Robert Williams, a fireman first class from Wales. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his brawny, crossed forearms.

“There is a cockiness,” said David Alberg, superintendent of the Monitor National Marine Sanctuary, which protects the remnants of the Monitor. “That is the look of the hero.”

But that air of confidence couldn’t have been predicted just a few months before.

On March 6, 1862, the new Union ironclad – its radical design dubbed “Ericsson’s folly” by its doubters -- steamed down New York City’s East River for the short journey to Virginia. There were doubts about whether the Monitor could withstand the seas and intense enemy firepower; it fired only two cannons from the revolving turret.

“People thought these 70 men were going to their deaths,” Alberg told the Picket. “The crew was unconvinced. Many were seasick.”

But the small ship quickly challenged the heavily armored CSS Virginia upon arrival and ended the latter’s rampage against Federal ships. The stalemate at Hampton Road changed naval warfare and foreshadowed the end of wooden warships.

Harper's Weekly rendering of Monitor sinking (public domain)

While much of the USS Monitor’s wreckage remains where it sank during a storm off Cape Hatteras, N.C, on Dec. 31, 1862, the turret, guns, anchor, engine components and thousands of artifacts are housed at the Mariners’ Museum and Park in Newport News, Va.

An exhibit that opened last year features personal items – including shoes, a comb, buttons and pocket knives -- found near or with the remains of two sailors found in the turret when it was recovered in 2002. Sixteen men, including four officers, perished when the Monitor went down.

Despite advanced forensics testing and physical descriptions of sailors noted during their Civil War service, the identities of the two crew members remain unknown.

Sailor 1 is believed to be William H. Eagan, 21, or Jacob Nicklis (Nickles), 21. Sailor 2 is likely either William Bryan, 31, or Williams, 30, who worked in the engine room. A spoon on display has the initials “J.N.” and is believed to have belonged to Nicklis. In the top photo in this post, Bryan may be the kneeling man to Williams' right.

Judging from contemporary accounts and what was found in the turret (discarded footwear, silverware and clothing), there was a mad rush to escape through the turret when it became clear the Monitor was going to sink.

David Alberg
Lifeboats from the steamer USS Rhode Island, which was towing the ironclad to Beaufort, N.C., plowed through 30-foot waves to scoop up survivors in midnight maelstrom. Some onboard likely couldn’t swim, while others’ best chance was leaping from the deck into a rescue boat.

It’s unclear why the two men found in the turret remained on board. “They probably said, ‘Maybe the storm will lie down and they will send another boat back,’” said Alberg.

In the minds of the crew, he said, the ironclad had gone from an “iron coffin” on March 6 to an icon in December. “And it had served them well.” Amid the storm, their confidence “kept them on that boat.” 

USS Monitor was 'a strange ship'

Like much of the US Navy, the Monitor’s crew was a cross-section of 19th century America. A few, including Williams and Eagan, were born in Europe. Three African-Americans were lost with the vessel off Hatteras.

The crew lived below the waterline, and oil lamps burned to make up for the lack of natural light in the iron vessel. Officers had better food and quarters while the enlisted men slept on hammocks in a common room behind the wardroom.

The USS Monitor is a “strange ship” for those accustomed to canal boats and traditional wooden vessels, said John Quarstein, director emeritus of the USS Monitor Center at the museum. For example, it had pressurized commodes. “Half of those people had never seen a commode.”

As one can imagine, life on the boat was almost unbearable during the summer months. A photo taken after the CSS Virginia clash shows a shade awning above the turret.

The crew did a fair bit of drilling, said Quarstein, and their work was subject to weekly inspections.

Panels in crew exhibit at Mariners' Museum (Picket photos)

Not a lot is known about Bryan and Eagan.

Bryan, like Williams, served on the ironclad during the battle with the Virginia. The New York native was an experienced yeoman.

Nicklis and Eagan, a relatively inexperienced landsman born in Ireland, were replacements brought on at the Washington Navy Yard while the boat was undergoing repairs in the autumn of 1862. By then, crowds cheered the Monitor and its occupants.

A good bit is known about Nicklis because of surviving letters in the museum’s collection, written to his father from Oct. 27, 1862, to Dec. 28, 1862. The young seaman from Buffalo, New York, stood 5 feet 7 inches and had a ruddy complexion.

Nicklis had enlisted in the Navy at age 16, but re-enlisted in 1862 for a one-year term.

Officers on the deck in July 1862 (Library of Congress)

Throughout his letters, Nicklis expresses his misgiving on serving on board the Monitor. He states that the turret is “getting weak” and that “they say we will have a pretty rough time a going around Hatteras but I hope it will not be the case.” 

The USS Monitor returned to Hampton Roads in November after it was repaired, and then it was ordered on Christmas Eve to steam to Beaufort.

Terrifying storm put it under

The pride of the US Navy left on Dec. 29, 1862. Two days later, it encountered a strong storm that had it floundering in the Atlantic waves. Not built to withstand the forces of the open seas, the ironclad bounced up and down, resulting in loosened bolts that allowed water to come in.

Landsman Francis Butts, standing atop the structure, later wrote that the waves “would leap upon us and break far above the turret” with “a shock that would sometimes take us off our feet.”

Commander John Bankhead ordered a red lantern (right) be hoisted to signal distress to the Rhode Island. The line between the two vessels was cut to minimize the chance of them colliding. The flooding continued during the rescues by leaky and overloaded lifeboats. Eventually, Bankhead ordered the crew to abandon ship.

Quarstein, author of “The Monitor Boys,” called the rescue of 47 USS Monitor crew members “a tremendous story of heroism” by the crew of the Rhode Island’s commander, Stephen Decatur Trenchard.

There was no requirement at the time of being a proficient swimmer, and most of the men knew if they fell into the water they were lost. A few slipped off the deck to their deaths, while others missed lifeboats.

“The people who are left in the turret when the second boat goes back, they are called to get into the boat by Bankhead. They are either too afraid or they think the boat is so overloaded.”

Rhode Island Acting Master’s Mate D. Rodney Browne and members of his crew rowed back for them (at least one member of the USS Monitor crew was below deck). The USS Monitor was gone.

Quarstein estimates about half of the 16 who died drowned, while the remaining went down when the USS Monitor capsized, turned over and hit the bottom.

Clash of the CSS Virginia and Monitor (Library of Congress)

Deep affection for Monitor's service

The USS Monitor retains its special place in US naval history. While it never engaged with the CSS Virginia again (the latter was destroyed to avoid capture after it was bottled up by the Monitor), the boat took part in the Battle of Drewry’s Bluff, firing on a Confederate fort on Virginia’s James River.

But it’s best remembered for its heroics on March 9, 1862, a day after the Virginia sank the USS Cumberland and pulverized the USS Congress, which was set afire after capture.

The Monitor’s skipper at the time, Lt. John Worden, was ordered to protect the steam frigate USS Minnesota. The Virginia plowed toward the Minnesota but the Monitor interceded and the two circled for hours, firing broadsides and looking for weakness in the other’s armor. Both sides claimed victory.

The Minnesota was saved outright by the Monitor. According to the USS Monitor Center, “One Minnesota crew member had his tombstone designed to look like the Monitor -- the ship that saved his life.”

Fast forward to March 2013, when the remains of the two unidentified men found in the turret were buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. (The bodies of the other 14 have not been recovered)

Reverse of coin has image of old USS Minnesota (NOAA)

Alberg, the superintendent of the Monitor marine sanctuary, told the Picket he has vivid memories of the day. About 140 descendants of the crew were on hand. “Some were of men who clearly survived. I have a photo of a lady laying her hands on the casket. I was very moved at how all 140 people viewed them as theirs.”

Front of coin (NOAA)
He keeps a coin given to him that day by the commanding officer of the new advanced nuclear submarine USS Minnesota. The reverse side includes an image of the Civil War-era USS Minnesota. The gift was a token of appreciation – 151 years later – for the Monitor’s saving of the Minnesota.

“That short 10-second exchange will stick with me forever,” said Alberg. “It really showed … the power of the Monitor story."

• Part 1: These two sailors went down with the USS Monitor. Now you can see items they carried or were found near them.

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

In Houston, check out 'Fort Humbug'

Civil War buffs traditionally don’t give Houston much consideration. The city’s presumptively minor role is even echoed in the title of The Heritage Society’s current exhibition, “Dumped and Forgotten Below the Milam Street Bridge: Houston In the Civil War,” on display through Aug. 4, at the society’s museum in Sam Houston Park. The underlying theme, explains Collections Curator Ginger Berni, is to counter the common perception that the Civil War was inconsequential to the city -- “just some sort of inconvenient blip in our history,” she says. • Article

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

Turn left at Farragut, then right on Shiloh

In 1961, William Estes Jr., a Civil War history buff, named a Tucson, Az., subdivision his father was working on because it was the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the Civil War. He also named the streets in it after Civil War leaders, ships, battles and battlegrounds, and the model homes — “The General Jackson,” “The General Sherman,” “The General Grant,” “The General Lee” and “The Mr. President” — for Civil War leaders. • Article

Monday, June 25, 2018

Plaque honors soldier who died at age 99

It’s been more than 78 years since Maryland soldier Jacob Andrew Snively died at age 99. Yet about 20 people gathered Sunday at his grave site in Rose Hill Cemetery to recognize the man who is believed to be the last surviving military member from either side of the Civil War to live in Washington County. “If you stop remembering, then they’ll forget them,” Union descendants group member George Chapman said. • Article

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Amputated limbs recovered from shallow pit at Manassas provide insight into surgeons' work

Erin Godwin excavates limb / Kate D. Sherwood, Smithsonian Institution

The extraordinary discovery of the remains of two Civil War soldiers buried next to 11 amputated limbs at Manassas National Battlefield Park in Virginia has brought new insight into how surgeons treated the critically wounded.

The National Park Service on Wednesday announced it’s the first time a surgeon’s “limb pit” from the conflict has been excavated and studied. It dates from the Second Battle of Bull Run in August 1862, a decisive victory for Confederates.

Bone fragments were found in an undisclosed area of the park during a utility project in 2014. The next year, NPS and Smithsonian Institution archaeologists excavated the site.

Beneath the surface, they found two nearly complete human skeletons, and several artifacts including buttons from a Union sack coat, a .577 Enfield bullet, three pieces of .31 caliber lead buckshot, and an assemblage of eleven arms and legs,” the park said.

Femur with lodged bullet / Kate
D. Sherwood, Smithsonian Institution
The team was able to determine that the bones belonged to Union soldiers. On Tuesday, the two skeletal remains were transferred to the U.S. Army, which will bury them at Arlington National Cemetery in caskets made from a fallen tree on the battlefield.

A glance of photographs of the amputated limbs shows the bleak realities of war. Surgeons sawed them off with precision because the bullets caused so much damage and soldiers needed an opportunity to ward off deadly infection.

As casualties piled into tents not far from the fighting, Civil War surgeons had to make quick decisions on who might have a chance of going home – without an arm or leg – and who was too seriously hurt to be operated on.

That appeared to be the case with the two soldiers.

The first was in his 20s and died of injuries from an Enfield bullet striking his upper leg.

“Surprisingly, the bullet was still lodged in the femur bone, likely because it slowed as it passed through the man’s cartridge box, the National Park Service said.

Cut marks show surgeon's skill / Kate D. Sherwood, Smithsonian Institution

Doug Owsley, lead physical anthropologist at the National Museum of Natural History, told the Smithsonian's online magazine that the soldier was shot in the buttocks while retreating.

The slug went in at an angle, causing a longitudinal fracture that caused the femur to snap, with bits splintering off inside his leg. “This is just so difficult to treat,” says Owsley, adding the wound was too high for amputation. The man was set aside and died.

The second skeleton is that of a man estimated to be between 30 and 34 years old. He died as a result of a buck and ball shot to the upper arm, pelvis and leg.

Regarding the amputated limbs, Owsley said the surgeon was skilled, given the precision of the cuts.

Brandon Bies assists in 2015 dig /
Kate D. Sherwood, Smithsonian Institution
“There’s a lot of choices that those surgeons had to make when they realized they were left and supplies were not coming in, and they basically had to fend for themselves along with thousands of wounded,” Kari Bruwelheide, a Smithsonian anthropologist, said in a video.

Manassas Superintendent Brandon Bries said, “We can start to have a personal connection to these soldiers and these remains. So instead of some bones, you are looking at somebody who was between 30 and 34 years old and was from the state of New York. That person may have had a wife, may have had children.”

The NPS said research on the recovered limbs continues and its possible they could be matched with a name.

“By examining the cuts, it is possible to determine the skill of the surgeon and even his physical position relative to the patient. With help from historical records, researchers believe it may be possible to match the bones with a specific surgeon and maybe even the soldier they belonged to, a truly unique discovery.

Bruwelheide, Bies examine bones / Nathan King, NPS

Bies, an archaeologist, told NPR that the men were likely wounded during a charge up Deep Cut, held by thousands of Confederates. “As (Union soldiers) start to get closer, within 300, 400 yards, they start to receive rifle fire and musket fire," he says. "Men are dropping left and right." 

Bullet entrance wound /
Kate D. Sherwood, Smithsonian Institution

Surgeons had a standard kit, with a variety of saws.

"If you could imagine sitting with a horrific wound of your own and hearing the moans and screams and seeing a growing pile of limbs from the surgeon, and knowing that your turn was coming, I can't possibly imagine what that would have been like,” Bies told NPR.

The bones were found in a shallow pit, indicating they likely were buried in haste. According to Smithsonian experts, the surgeons were allowed by Confederates to conduct the hasty operations after the battle, when the wounded had been in the sun and rain for days. They may not have had chloroform at their disposal.

Remains are in Army custody / Bradley Waldron, NPS
Foot of amputated leg / Kate D. Sherwood, Smithsonian Institution